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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24589870">Superstar by The Carpenters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatashaDuLac/pseuds/NatashaDuLac'>NatashaDuLac</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Based on a True Story, Eating Disorders, Freddie Mercury Weekend, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, freddie needs a hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:22:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24589870</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatashaDuLac/pseuds/NatashaDuLac</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brian steals one of Freddie’s almond slices, Freddie doesn’t take it well.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Freddie Mercury/David Minns</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Freddie Mercury Weekend 2020!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Superstar by The Carpenters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>One of my duties for Freddie was to go down to the bakery on Dalston High Street every morning before he arrived and get him some Mr Kipling almond slices to go with his tea [...] Freddie told me that no one else in the band was allowed any of his almond slices, but that I could help myself. To be honest, I thought this was just Fred being Fred [...] Brian took an almond slice without asking, and there was a minor row about it. Freddie made this big announcement: “No one is allowed to touch my almond slices, no one except Andy!”</p><p>– Andy Turner (assistant sound engineer at Wessex Sound in 1977)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He can’t help it. He knows, almost instantly, that he shouldn’t have said anything. It’s so weird, and also so unlike him. He’s the last one to care about food when it’s a question of spending money on it, as opposed to on equipment, lighting, costumes… He always picks the thing they need for the show. He’s not a complete idiot, even if he is the stupid one in Queen, the airhead. You can never be too rich or too thin! He was only six when he first overheard that, at a grown up party, not knowing then it was a sort of joke. Later he understood it was meant to be, but he feels there’s more truth in it than humour. </p><p>Why would Freddie care about this? He knows that’s what they are thinking. This, something so petty, so stupid, so selfish? Isn’t he meant to be above it? Isn’t he the most artistic one of all, the perfectionist, the one who’ll stay all day and all night and all the next day, if he needs to…? </p><p>He doesn’t even really NEED to eat. It’s not like it is for other people, not for him, because he’s special and he’s learned ways of coping with that. He’s good at it now.</p><p>So he shouldn’t have let the mask slip.</p><p>“Freddie! Don’t be so selfish, why can’t Brian have one if he wants?” It’s John, a bastion of fairness. </p><p>“It’s not like you eat them all,” Brian puts in. His face is serious now - it’s no fun being accused, especially by Freddie. </p><p>“No,” John adds, still indignant. “I’ve seen you throw them away. Or starting one and chucking it, do you know what my mum would’ve said if I’d done that?” It’s the moral voice of someone still not all that far from childhood. </p><p>Freddie’s gone red now, but he doesn’t actually speak. He doesn’t say anything. His face is on fire, and he couldn’t regret it more if he tried. For fucking fuck’s sake, Freddie. All the effort he puts into trying to behave normally - or at least to only being not normal in the good ways - and he’s screwed up again. </p><p>He tries to sound arrogant in an impressive, rockstar way. “No one is allowed to touch my almond slices… No one - except Andy!” </p><p>Andy will never take one, of course. That’s an easy equation. He wants to stay in everyone’s good graces, poor lad. </p><p><i>Which makes it all the more ridiculous to use him as a pawn in saving face over your ridiculous temper tantrums</i>, Freddie tells himself, furious suddenly. </p><p>It’s Roger who steps forward. </p><p>“Shut the hell up,” he snaps in John’s direction. “It’s none of your business, and no one asked your opinion-”</p><p>“Roger…” Freddie’s voice trembles, and his hand’s trembling too, on Roger’s arm. </p><p>“He has no right,” Roger begins hotly, turning to look at Freddie - but his face softens, as if he can’t even see Freddie without feeling more gentle. </p><p>Something hangs in the air between them. The spectre of living together, of sharing a bedroom, sharing clothes. Christmas, just the two of them. </p><p>
  <i>Freddie, it’s eight o’clock and you haven’t eaten anything today. I made you that tea this morning and you haven’t even gone in the kitchen since.</i>
</p><p>There’s nothing wrong with him. Nothing. And Roger being kind about Freddie acting crazy hurts too much, makes it feel like there’s some truth to the idea of - of something being wrong. </p><p>It’s not a crime to want David to love him, is it? Maybe it’s a sin, but not a crime. And reasonably enough - he knows you have to be honest about this - David won’t love someone who gets ugly, bald, fat. That’s the way of the world. It’s nothing against David. Men, especially, aren’t like women, they want the younger, prettier thing. </p><p>If you can’t be pretty, you can at least be thin. And that’s easy for the most part, the hardest bit is only not getting plastered as often as Freddie would like to. The food - he feels queasy whenever he’s nervous, always has and probably always will, which is an advantage of a sort. A dicky tummy (he can’t make his brain lose the school phrase, much as he’d like to) sounds like the worst and most disgusting thing in the world to have, but his nerves getting to him is really a good thing in a way. He eats less. </p><p>But if you find one thing you like and you haven’t eaten very much for the rest of the day, then it becomes YOUR thing. There isn’t any way to explain it. How can he possibly, possibly say that he wants David to keep fucking him? He doesn’t want to get too big and fat to still be taken? </p><p>Sitting on David’s lap, being held close when the bad memories come and he’s trying to push them away, but he can’t. Feeling safe, enclosed, little. </p><p>He can’t say it out loud. </p><p>Brian’s eyes look pitying, which feels even worse. He says, “Freddie… it was stupid, look, I’m sorry I took it.” His voice is quiet, the silence of everyone else feels terribly awkward, and the tension between Freddie and Roger is subtly different still. “I didn’t think,” Brian adds, and Freddie sees him glance at Roger.</p><p>What the fuck has Roger said to him? </p><p>“Deacy,” Brian says. “Come on, let’s get a move on. Beer won’t drink itself.” </p><p>It’s earlier than they usually start, a transparent excuse, and John is thinking that this makes no bloody sense. He has half a mind to give Roger a good shove. Freddie is Freddie, and he can’t possibly be as breakable as Roger thinks he is - he can’t be, because no one can. </p><p>Roger’s always claimed a sort of silent ownership of Freddie, all the more annoying because it never comes out into the open to be argued with. Does it come from their time sharing the clothes stall? Or something else? But that’s the thing, you can’t even ask questions about something so vague, and Freddie, at times, seems to be all secrets. Another one is obviously in the mix now, although God knows what it could be.</p><p>In his head, John makes a silent apology for blaspheming. He was raised better than that. </p><p>After he’s followed Brian out, after Andy, blushing, has fled behind them - once, in short, Freddie and Roger are alone, which is what Roger at least wants, putting a retaining hand on Freddie’s wrist now - then, he can speak. </p><p>“Giving yourself away, aren’t you?” he says first, cautiously, as if Freddie might bite.</p><p>“I don’t know what you mean. You know I’m - well, you know.” </p><p>“Not fucking bent, Fred. Jesus.” Roger laughs. “Last I heard, an almond obsession wasn’t some kind of membership requirement.”</p><p>“Oh,” Freddie manages to smile. “Last you heard, dear…?” </p><p>“You know what I mean. Your weird thing.” <i>With the food</i> goes unspoken, but they both know which words complete the sentence.</p><p>“I don’t have a - ” </p><p>“Freddie.” Roger’s voice goes instantly sharp. “At least don’t lie to me, okay? I never ask you, never make you tell me anything, just don’t fucking LIE…” </p><p>“S-Sorry.” His eyes sting, because he knows he’s in the wrong, he’s been in the wrong all through this, but that makes it no better. </p><p>“You have to try and act normal about it even if you don’t feel normal,” Roger says, and it’s clear from the relenting in his voice that he can see Freddie’s upset. He rubs his arm - Freddie’s only wearing a t-shirt - and Freddie can’t help thinking, <i>It’s not like he can’t feel the fat on me, even touching me for a second.</i> </p><p>“Okay,” he mumbles, nodding, looking at the floor so Roger can’t see his face properly. He feels a bit as if Roger ought to know he’s good at this - he’s always had to try to act normal, and even if he hasn’t been able to pull it off, he’s managed to seem a lot more ordinary than he is. For years. </p><p>But then he’s also grateful Roger is even willing to touch him. It’s an effeminate thing to think about, it’s not like he doesn’t know that. Roger could be as disgusted as John - would have cause to be. </p><p>“Let’s go out,” Roger says. “You’ll feel better, you can ring David and ask him to come and meet us, I’ll get Dom…” </p><p>Freddie nods, swallowing, turning his head away so he can wipe his eyes. Forget how stupid he’s been. If they’re willing to pretend it didn’t happen, then he’s lucky. </p><p> </p><p>
  <i> Loneliness is such a sad affair...</i><br/>
<i>And I can hardly wait to be with you again<i><br/>
- The Carpenters, from Superstar</i></i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Notes and appreciation:</p><p>- Freddie may not have had classic anorexia like Karen Carpenter but he fell in the eating disordered area. A few big fans who also have EDs have started gathering this information and it’s very sad but interesting! </p><p>- Thank you to my dear beta @freddieofhearts for helping me level this fic up in so many ways. Couldn’t have done it without you! 💙💙💙</p><p>- Last but NOT least thank you @nastally for running this weekend of Freddie awesome!!! 🙏🏻</p></blockquote></div></div>
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